


In Which Sherlock Will Not Ask

by irrevocably-johnlocked (AurielleDawn)



Series: Before the Fall [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221B Ficlet, Drabble, Johnlock Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 18:57:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1176683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AurielleDawn/pseuds/irrevocably-johnlocked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Johnlock drabble written in response to this anonymous fluff prompt: Sherlock likes cuddling but hates asking and loathes using the word.</p><p>Note that I'm changing my pseud on my Johnlock fic so tumblr followers can find me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which Sherlock Will Not Ask

John is sitting on the couch, working on his blog. His back is against the arm and his feet propped up on the seat cushion, laptop resting on his knees. Sherlock is pacing, somewhat erratically, around the flat, casting glances at John every few seconds. 

“What’s wrong?” John asks, not looking up from his laptop.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Sherlock answers coldly, lifting an eyebrow imperiously.

“Yeah, you do.” John sighs, still not looking up. “Are you bored? Want me to see if I can find you a case? I think we’ve got some inquiries.”

“No, no.” Sherlock waives the suggestion away, and John looks at him, puzzled. He continues to pace, not meeting John’s eyes. 

“Cravings, then?” John asks, and Sherlock shakes his head in annoyance, huffing as though John is doing a tediously appalling job at reading his mind, turning towards the window in annoyance. 

John smiles at Sherlock’s back and returns his attention to his laptop. That leaves only a couple of options, and he’s just going to let Sherlock stew about it until he figures out what he wants and asks for it like a grownup. 

A few moments later, Sherlock flops bonelessly down on the couch, not far from John’s feet. He’s wearing pajamas and his blue robe, and he fiddles with the hem a bit, shifting around so John’s knees jiggle and the laptop slips. John sighs again and looks over the laptop at the mad genius he’s chosen to love. Sherlock is resolutely not looking at him. This is a sure sign that he wants something. Something very specific that has to do with John. 

John returns his eyes to his laptop, suppressing another smile. If it were sex Sherlock was wanting, he would have initiated it by now. Sherlock has loads of brilliant (sexy, mind-blowing) ways for instigating sex. So that leaves only one likely option, the thing he won’t ask for and has only one way to instigate. And the laptop is the current barrier to that little process. If John were a better man, he’d just set the laptop aside. But he’s kind of enjoying making Sherlock puzzle it out. 

“Something I can do for you?” he asks nonchalantly. 

Sherlock crosses his arms in a pout. “Of course not.” And he looks so adorable and childish that John’s will is broken, and he wants it too, the thing Sherlock won’t ask for. He smiles at the messy curls and bright blue eyes, resolutely looking anywhere but him. He snaps the laptop shut and sets it on the floor, leaning back against the couch arm and letting his legs fall open slightly. And then he watches. Sherlock glances at him out of the corner of his eye, catching his expression and then turning away in a huff. “Oh, shut up.”

John laughs. “I didn’t say a word.” Sherlock’s mouth twitches a bit.

John shakes his head and says, “Come here, then.” 

And he suddenly has an armful of snuggly, warm Sherlock, draped across him and curled into his chest. Sherlock rubs his face against John’s jumper, breathing in his scent, wiggling against him in a way that would be really distracting if it weren’t so adorable. He rests his chin on John’s chest and looks up into his eyes, humming contentedly as John runs his hands through messy chestnut curls. John loves him like this. He loves snarky Sherlock and brilliant Sherlock and sexy Sherlock, bloody hell, he does. But there’s something about Sherlock like this that just makes his heart expand.

He runs a thumb over an impossible cheekbone and says, “You know. You can just ask for a cuddle.” Sherlock glares at him under his lashes. “Really, John. That is the most utterly ludicrous word in the English language. I do not _cuddle_.” 

“Yeah, you do.” And John kisses away Sherlock’s pout and snuggles down further into the couch, pulling Sherlock’s head into the crook of his neck.


End file.
